


uncertain at best

by markrenton



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Humor, Journalism, Lawyers, M/M, rated M for mentions of sex, will probably change to e at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 12:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12653655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markrenton/pseuds/markrenton
Summary: The one where Jihoon is a journalist, and Junhui is a laywer, and they learn together about trust and love.(Jihoon isn’t a people pleaser, but Junhui isn’t most people. He isn’t sure it’s just because he wants to revel in Junhui’s satisfaction when he says yes. Maybe being the reason Junhui smiles is a lot better than most things.).





	uncertain at best

**Author's Note:**

> aaaa aaa h e l l o 
> 
> i've been working on this for WAY too long. but i decided to post it now so i would feel pressure and this au would see the light of day/get completed eventually because it actually means a lot to me and it want it Out there. i'm gonna start off with a few thankyous 
> 
> first of all, katsu. i really don't know what id do without you... you helped me build this world and encouraged my ideas every step of the way and i am SO grateful for you. honestly i want to finish this fic just so the little world we built here will really come to life. you know the most about this au than ANYONE and that makes me so freaking happy. thank you for being there when i freak out about Nonsense and being your kind, inspiring self. i LOVE you. also happy late birthday!!!!
> 
> ari!!!!!! i LOVE you. i am so happy we're friends and your help has been incredible from the get-go, thank you so much for being there when i was helpless and thank you for noticing all my typos. i adore you
> 
> also fay who had to deal with constant screenshots of this shit. u know i love u tho
> 
> alright guyz. there's a lot more of this to come so be prepared!! the fic isn't complete but im hoping posting this first chap will light a fire up my ass. so here goes!!! my journalist jihoon lawyer junhui au!!!! i really hope you guys like it. thank you so much if you're reading!!
> 
> the title is a line from the song In Love by (sandy) alex g

Jihoon zips his jeans up and does the button at the top, then lifts his shirt over it. His eyes are used to the darkness around him already, so it isn’t a problem for him to locate his shoes on the floor next to the bed, sitting on the bed while he undoes the laces so he could fit his feet into the sneakers easily.  
  
“You’re leaving?” He hears a voice asking behind him, and he turns for a moment to see Junhui with his palm under his cheek. His tone is more disappointed than it is sleepy, but the question sounds rhetoric. Jihoon gives a single nod in Junhui’s direction; he’s stopped making excuses a long time ago, and Junhui’s questions become statements more than they are questions. They’ve mastered the push-and-pull dynamic they started off with. Junhui pulls, Jihoon leans in, stays, and pushes away-- he doesn’t see it as more than what he’s used to. What he wants it to be.

“I’ll text you when I get home.” Jihoon informs him before he opens the bedroom door, light filtering through from the hallway. Junhui only curls against the bed sheets. For a single moment the bed looks inviting, tempting, and this unexplainable need in Jihoon’s stomach rises and whispers to him to get back in bed and stay there until he despises himself.

Jihoon leaves and shuts the door behind him carefully, turning the light off in the corridor. He makes his way to the front door as quickly as he can, unsure what he’s running away from.

But he’s definitely running away.

  


Jihoon wakes up in his own bed with the same clothes he wore last night. When he opens his eyes after rubbing them blind, he sits up and blinks to see Seungcheol leaning against the door frame with the most shit-eating grin on his face. At first, he wants to kick him in the balls, then he sees he’s holding two cups of coffee. Suddenly, Jihoon doesn’t want to kick him in the balls anymore.

“How’d you get in?” Jihoon asks as Seungcheol steps into the bedroom and sits at the edge of his mattress, offering Jihoon the mug.  
  
“Key under the mat.” Seungcheol says as matter of fact, and Jihoon sighs after taking a sip of his coffee. It’s strong, just the way he likes it, but he doesn’t want Seungcheol too satisfied.

Jihoon places the mug on the bedside table, running his fingers through his hair to get it out of his eyes and yawns. Seungcheol sips his own coffee slowly, until Jihoon asks, “Did you come here for a reason, or just to make me feel bad that you woke up before me on a Sunday?”

“Both,” Seungcheol responds, and Jihoon simply lies on his back to stare at the crack in his ceiling.

Jihoon stays on his back for another minute before sitting up again, leaning his back against the wall behind him and lifting the warm mug to his hands, taking a long swig before placing it back down.  
“What is it?” Seungcheol has this specific look on his face, this expression Jihoon learned to read as nervous. Jihoon furrows his eyebrows as they keep looking at each other. “Well, come on. What?” Seungcheol takes a deep breath and Jihoon’s eyes roll pretty much involuntarily.  
  
“Jeonghan’s moving in with me.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft, and Jihoon’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He blinks a few time before clearing his throat, scratching the top of his head.  
  
“Woah. Are you serious?” Seungcheol nods. Jihoon can see his heart contracting out his chest. “Fuck, man. Congrats,” He says, a smile forming across his cheeks, before he squeezes Seungcheol’s shoulder, letting out a breath. Seungcheol looks relieved to have told Jihoon, and Jihoon feels warm that Seungcheol finds it important to let him know.

“I’m pretty fucking terrified,” Seungcheol mumbles, and Jihoon chuckles, but without malice. He pats his shoulder and gives him a sheepish smile, and Seungcheol just nods before standing up and pacing around a little. “It'll be fine, right? He's not gonna end up hating my guts or something, right?” Seungcheol brings his fingers up to his mouth to bite on his nails and Jihoon furrows his eyebrows again and blinks at him, shaking his head.

“As someone who's lived with you before, he probably will--,”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol cuts him off, and Jihoon sighs.

“--but I think you've got a good thing going, so. You'll be okay.” Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek, and doesn't say anything. It's not common for Jihoon to be this optimistic about anything, especially not a relationship that isn't even his— but Seungcheol’s his friend, has been his friend for years. So, Jihoon can set aside his usual disheartening world views in his behalf for a moment.

“Would you get out of my apartment now and leave me be?” He asks casually, rubbing his forehead. Seungcheol doesn't really pay attention to what he says and just opens the window and the blinds to let the sun wash the room warm, and Jihoon groans when it hits his eyes, so sharp and hot on his skin.

“When’d you come home last night?” Seungcheol inquires. Jihoon grunts again and tugs his blanket over his head, sensing Seungcheol’s on-coming shake down.

“Go. Get out. Leave,” Jihoon murmurs from under the sheets, not interested in the conversation.

“Sounds like the words of a guilty man,” Seungcheol exclaims and Jihoon peeks from under the blanket to see him on his way to the door. “Fine, I’m going. Do me a favor and get out of bed, maybe do yourself one and take a shower. You stink.”

Jihoon throws a pillow in Seungcheol’s general direction. “Get out,” He repeats, and Jihoon hears him chuckling before he shuts the front door.

 

 

Jihoon drags the cord of his charger to reach his phone, pressing the home button. The time shows _12:18_. It’s so late that it pisses him right off, because now Seungcheol really does have a good reason to gloat. He drags himself out of bed and rubs at the marks his jeans left on his hips from sleeping in them, lifting his shirt over his head and throwing it in the laundry basket once he’s in the bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror, and instantly wants to claw his eyes out. He looks like shit.

He shimmies out his jeans and boxers and tosses those into the laundry basket too, turning on the shower to a boiling temperature and standing under the running water. He catches a glimpse of his reddening skin in the mirror and wonders if it was this red last night, with Junhui.

With a towel on his head, he dries his hair and does the button on his jeans (a clean pair, he… thinks), disconnecting his phone from the charger to go through his notifications.  
  
_junhui_ _  
_ _You left your earbuds on my table_

Oh, shit. He isn’t usually forgetful, but he was in quite a rush last night. Jihoon bites at the top of his lip incessantly as he considers _i’ll come by tonight to pick it up_ or _i’ll get them next time_ before he decides to stop being stupid because he knows he needs his earbuds to survive, and texts back,

_are you home?_

Jihoon throws his phone on the bed and sits on it, tugging his shoes on his ankles and hissing at the burning at his fingertips before he reaches for his phone again.

_junhui_

_Yeah, but I have plans in an hour_

Jihoon slides the screen to view the message and replies with hurry, _be there in fifteen,_ pushing his phone inside his pocket and closing the window after Seungcheol left it open before. He spends another seven minutes locating his keys and wallet (kitchen table), and leaves.

 

He’s never been in Junhui’s apartment this early. Actually, he’s quite sure he’s never been in his apartment before dark, so he doesn’t even know what it looks like during the day. Junhui opens the door, and the large, all-wall window is right behind him, which makes his black hair glow at the edges, the illusion of an aura kicking Jihoon right in the abdomen. He’s wearing tailored fitted dark blue trousers and a white dress shirt that compliments his tanned skin; he’s probably been awake for hours.  
  
“Hey,” Junhui steps back to allow Jihoon into his apartment, which he can recognize now as very nicely furnished. The whole place is entirely different with sunlight streaming in through the window-instead-of-a-wall, and Jihoon has the fleeting thought _I fucked him against that window._

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here this early,” Jihoon remarks as he walks inside and Junhui closes the door behind him, venturing into the kitchen. After a moment or two of taking in the view, Jihoon turns around and sees Jun making two shots of espresso. With a Nespresso machine. He has a Nespresso machine. Right.

“You never really had a reason to,” Junhui returns from the kitchen and stops beside Jihoon to offer him one of the small cups, and the scent of coffee beans clouds his nose. Jihoon usually drinks americanos, hot or cold, but the smell is intoxicating, so he takes a small sip.

“That’s strong,” He licks his lips in approval, nodding. “Thanks.”  
  
“Sure.” Junhui smiles at him, and the coffee down Jihoon’s throat taste sweet. Almost.

They stand there for another minute until Junhui downs the rest of his espresso. “Your earbuds are on the coffee table,” He gestures behind them with his head and Jihoon suddenly remembers he had a solid reason to come here. For a single moment, it feels like routine- standing in front of the window with Junhui with the smallest cup in his hand- but it's something he’s never done before. Jihoon turns to look behind him and walks over to the white coffee table to pick up his earbuds, neatly organized into a circle looped around itself. He pockets them in his hoodie.  
  
“Well. Thanks for the coffee.” Jihoon glances around another time, then at Junhui, whose eyes are already pointing to him. They’re very perceptive and deep, he notices. Jihoon already has the _main idea_ of how handsome Junhui is, has already obsessed over how weird it to be fucking someone this _gorgeous,_ but right now, with the light contrasting with his black hair, the white walls, the slight gleam in his eyes that’s just mischievous enough for Jihoon to feel flustered- it’s all very overwhelming, and he wants to run away now more than he wanted to last night.

“My pleasure,” Junhui says, and the softness to his voice remains even though Jihoon has a difficult time believing him. He walks him out to the front door. Jihoon is ready to say goodbye when Junhui, charming and calm, holds the door frame and says, “Daytime suits you.”

Jihoon grins. It starts small but turns wide, and when Junhui smiles back at him he knows his eyes must be squinting, because Junhui's smile has a particular sense of _endearment._

“See you around,” He snickers.

“You will,” He hears Junhui call out as he walks down the stairs of his building, pushing his hand inside his pocket to fish out his earbuds. They’re still looped in a neat circle. Jihoon is pleasantly surprised to find out how easy it is to disentangle the loop and wrap the cords around his ears.

  


The office is abandoned when Jihoon arrives the next morning, except for Seungkwan, who’s been hard at work on a specific article for the past month or so. He’s been pulling all-nighters and giving himself keyboard-carpal-tunnel. He’s always been a perfectionist, ever since his internship days, but Jihoon’s certain he’s never seen him like this before.

“Do you even have a deadline for this?” Jihoon asks him as he drops his bag on his desk and takes his laptop out, opening up a few files he needs to proofread. Seungkwan rolls his eyes making his way towards Jihoon’s desk and placing a coffee mug next to him. Jihoon dips his head in gratitude.  
  
“Has Fog City Daily ever believed in deadlines?” Seungkwan offers, returning to his own desk and scrolling through his work. He has a point.  
  
“Maybe before they hired you,” Jihoon says, making Seungkwan snort under his breath and nod. “Must be a really good piece if Seungcheol hasn’t told you to move on already.” Jihoon raises an eyebrow. Seungkwan’s expression turns into one of a nervous graduate working on his college essay.

“Speaking of Seungcheol, he said he wants a follow-up on that article from a couple months ago,” Seungkwan blinks in confusion, “Something about dirty judges?”

“Is he here?” Jihoon asks, squinting towards the door at the other end of the room. Seungkwan nods, and Jihoon stands up, walking up and knocking on the door before he hears Seungcheol telling him to come in from behind it. “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, raising his eyebrows while all Seungcheol does is shrug.  
  
“I thought you needed a little push.” Seungcheol’s lips pucker, without an ounce of self doubt.

“You’re being unprofessional and unethical.” Seungcheol laughs and points to the couch for Jihoon to sit down. “As my editor, you’re supposed to tell me _not_ to work with him.” Seungcheol shrugs again. Jihoon decides to use this as a mental note to never again reveal his private life to Seungcheol.  
  
“I just want a follow up, Jihoon. It was a good piece and we got a lot of feedback on it.” It’s barely eleven in the morning and Jihoon’s already developing a headache. He leans against his seat, Seungcheol staring at him innocently enough for this to seem like satire. “See where it goes. If nothing good comes out of it, it’ll be on me.” He isn’t sure he’s talking about the piece anymore.

Jihoon stands up, throwing his arms up as he walks out of Seungcheol’s office and shuts the door behind him. When he returns to his desk, he gathers some of his things, sliding his bag across his shoulder. Seungkwan asks him where he’s going and Jihoon puts his arms up again, like he’s asking the same question himself.

  


“Second time before the sun sets in two days, when did I get so lucky?” Junhui asks him over the phone once he picks up. Jihoon grins and hopes it isn’t audible through the line. The last time they worked together was before they slept together, and now, working with Junhui after they have (last time being two nights ago), Jihoon feels a bit uneasy, a nails on a blackboard sensation going up his spine. He cuts to the chase.  
“My editor wants a follow up, and I need to know if there’s anyone or anything to work on.” There’s a long pause between them and Jihoon checks Junhui hasn’t hung up on him.  
  
“Come by the courthouse in an hour.”

Jihoon sits courthouse entrance, holding one cappuccino for Junhui and an Americano for himself in a carrier he hopes doesn’t fall as he makes his way through the masses on their way to their lunch break. He stops when he sees Junhui making his way down the stairs towards him. He’s wearing a suit: it’s gray, with a white button down beneath the suit jacket the makes Junhui look effortlessly stylish, the cufflinks at his wrists bringing out a sense of professionalism that Jihoon definitely lacks. Junhui greets him with a smile, which Jihoon catches like a cold.

“Quid pro quo,” He says as he releases the hot cappuccino and hands it over to Junhui, which he gladly accepts. They walk down the street and cross the road in silence.  
  
“Lunch?” Junhui asks. Jihoon nods, taking small sips of his coffee as they walk.

“There’s a French bistro I like near here.”

Junhui turns to him and smirks. “Oh my God. Is this our first date?”

It’s so smug Jihoon rolls his eyes reflexively. Like an allergic reaction. He shakes his head, smiling apathetically.

“Purely business.” Junhui’s expression is inscrutable. Jihoon swears he could detect disappointment for only a mere second before Junhui smiles again.

They get seated at a small table. The weather is nice enough that Jihoon takes off his jacket, folding it over his chair while the waitress sets a water pitcher on their table. Junhui uses the opportunity to order a double espresso, and Jihoon crooks an eyebrow.

“We just had coffee.”

“I’m a lawyer. A cappuccino doesn’t cut it.” Jihoon frowns.

Jihoon orders _Le Filet du Saumon._ Junhui orders the _Des Côtelettes De Porc._

“And judge.. Katz. You said something about a juvenile center?” Jihoon leans against his chair, putting his pen down. Junhui nods and cuts the perfect piece of pork with his fork, stabbing into it and bringing it to his mouth, chewing while he nods. 

“Mhm,” Junhui swallows and puts his fork down. “Got paid to fill the place up. Family court turns into six months in Juvie, misdemeanors into criminal charges. They’re putting kids in trial as adults.” Jihoon sighs, rubbing his forehead. Junhui smiles sheepishly, grabbing a napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth with. “I know. It’s bad.”

“How do you do this?” Jihoon asks. Almost rhetorically. Junhui breathes through his nose and plays with his cufflinks, shaking his head as he shrugs. Jihoon knows he means, _I don’t know,_ and he doesn’t blame him. What makes him all the more intrigued, is Junhui’s ability to remain spotlessly positive, despite the knowledge he carries in his backpocket. It has to be one of their major differences; while the both of them work with information hard to digest, Jihoon never learned how to block it out. Even though he has a strict policy of keeping his emotions inside, sometimes it kills him. Sometimes it keeps him up at night.

“That’s why I’m telling you all this. I could get disbarred.” It’s so quiet. Jihoon catches Junhui’s glance. He shudders, at the thought. Junhui is risking his job, his career, his life to get the truth in print. It answers Jihoon’s rhetorical question perfectly (his cheeks feel red).

The atmosphere takes a turn for the serious, and Jihoon has something dancing at the tip of his tongue. Junhui jumps the gun. “Don’t take me too seriously. I’m smarter than I look.” Jihoon grins, and that same spark of endearment appears in Junhui’s eyes. He might implode. Gross.

“You look very smart,” Jihoon murmurs while going over his notes.  
  
Junhui beams. “Are you flirting with me? That’s very unprofessional.” Jihoon laughs.

Junhui insists on paying, but Jihoon doesn’t allow it (“ _If anything, I should be the one paying.” “I’m using the firm's card.”)._ They split the bill.

 

Jihoon walks Junhui back to the courthouse. They walk down Woodside Avenue talking. At first it’s the usual _our anonymous source_ go-through, which turns into a casual conversation about Fog City, and Junhui’s office.

Jihoon tells him about Seungkwan’s secret piece when Junhui grabs him by the hand and drags him to the nearby alley-corner, pressing their mouths, soft enough for Jihoon to reciprocate easily before Junhui deepens the kiss. Junhui kisses him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t have to try, their mouths fall into place, aligned perfectly, Junhui’s tongue so carefully sliding over his upper lip, so gentle, Jihoon lets loose a sharp breath through his nose. It’s hard to pretend that his heart doesn’t skip a beat whenever Junhui kisses him; or maybe it’s easier.  
  
“What are you doing tonight?” Junhui’s voice is so low Jihoon isn’t sure if he’s amused or aroused. Or both.

Jihoon laughs against Junhui’s mouth. “Probably nothing. Work. Aren’t you a busy, busy lawyer?”

Junhui huffs as they creep out of the corner. “ _Please,”_ He mocks. Jihoon isn’t a people pleaser, but Junhui isn’t most people. He isn’t sure it’s just because he wants to revel in Junhui’s satisfaction when he says yes. Maybe being the reason Junhui smiles is a lot better than most things.

They walk half the way to the firm before Jihoon needs to get back to work, and Junhui said he’ll send documents to his office.

 

 

Once Jihoon is already on his way back to the office, his fingers brush over the keyboard, tempted to text Junhui. He’s about to shove his phone back into his pocket just when he gets an incoming call from Seungcheol, rolling his eyes as he picks up.  
  
“I’m doing it, alright? I’m writing a follow up, so you can get off my back.” Seungcheol scoffs at him through the other line.  
  
“I actually called to tell you Jeonghan and I are having a housewarming party this weekend. And you have a plus one,” Jihoon groans straightaway, rubbing his temple. He wants to hang up, but Seungcheol already gave him a full length lecture about how _hanging up doesn’t mean the conversation is over, Jihoon,_ so he just lets his friend go on. “And I know for a fact you have someone who’d love to join you. If you just ask.”

Jihoon swallows. Sometimes he doesn’t appreciate how well Seungcheol knows him. He’s the only friend he has that can nitpick at his faults and worries.  
  
“Don’t you have better things to do? Isn’t your boyfriend really moving in with you? Besides, this isn’t a _new_ apartment, it’s not _really_ a housewarming party.” Jihoon can feel Seungcheol’s blood boiling even through the phone.  
  
“Are you calling me a fraud?” Seungcheol says, and Jihoon just snorts and rubs the back of his neck.

“Alright. Fine. If I lose a good source over this, it’s your own fault, so don’t complain when all my next pieces are about the new dog show in North Beach.”  
  
“You’re a criminal reporter!” Seungcheol laughs through the other end. Jihoon shrugs.  
  
“You won’t believe what these bitches do to get into those shows.”  


  


Jihoon walks into the building, asking the front desk if there’s any packages for him. Junhui’s documents are already there, which means Junhui probably planned ahead— which doesn’t surprise him. Junhui has a knack for being prepared. Jihoon assumes it’s a lawyer thing.

He thanks the clerk and presses the files under his arm as he makes his way upstairs. He knows there isn’t any way he’d be doing any actual writing today. He has documents to go over, fact checking to do, research to start on. He’d have to schedule a meeting with Seungcheol to go over all the material together as well.

He’s already exhausted, and it’s only Monday. Not to mention Seungcheol’s ‘housewarming’ party hovering over his head, and Seungcheol’s words: _and I know for a fact you have someone who’d love to join you, if you just ask._ Jihoon isn’t sure why Seungcheol’s so eager to have an attorney at his party. Jihoon can already feel the scrutinizing glances. Nevertheless, he doesn’t know if he could negotiate his way around this. Maybe if he’s lucky, Junhui would just say no.

But he wouldn’t.

Jihoon drops his belongings on his desk before he makes his way to the copy room with the stack of files under his arm. If he’s learned anything while working here it’s making copies as fast as possible before he forgets and has to return them. Jihoon straightens every page on the scanner, working neatly. He hears footsteps behind him, and Seungcheol comes into view as he walks past him and leans against the copy machine, raising his eyebrows.  
  
Jihoon huffs a laugh. “Oh, Jesus, it’s like you want me to punch you,” Jihoon says on a sigh.

“I could have you fired for that kind of language,” Seungcheol warns, but all Jihoon does is scoff.

“I said it as your friend of seven years, not your subordinate.” Seungcheol only gives him a cheeky grin. “You’d never fire me, anyway.” Jihoon takes another page out of the folder, organizing the rest of the copies in a stack.

“What’re you doing?” Seungcheol asks, his tone too mischievous for for Jihoon to believe he’s sincerely interested. Jihoon laughs. Even though when they work together, they’re the A team, and their professionalism can’t be beat, it’s impossible for them to treat each other as what they are- a boss and his employee.

“Just making copies of some legal documents for my upcoming wedding,” Seungcheol tilts his head before Jihoon continues, “you’re not invited.” This time Seungcheol is the one to roll his eyes. Jihoon takes the file folder and smacks Seungcheol on the head with it. Seungcheol brings his hand up to his mouth, overdramatically playing his shock, then lifts his hand to the top of his head in slow motion, leaving Jihoon to furrow his eyebrows and chuckle.

“Why are you pressing so hard?” Jihoon asks, taking the last few pages to come out and organizing his pile.  
  
“You’re twenty-six in November, it’s time you have an actual relationship in your life.” Seungcheol actually sounds like the thirty-year old he is for a second, and it shakes Jihoon’s perspective.

“This is my age! I'm in the prime of my youth, and I'll only be young once!” Jihoon exclaims, and Seungcheol pouts his lips.  
  
“ _Stand By Me._ Consider me impressed,” Jihoon gives him a bow, and Seungcheol turns around to walk back into his office. “And take a day off once in awhile, I’m sick of seeing your face every day,” He calls with his back to Jihoon.

  


Jihoon gets out of the office a little after eight. With the information provided from Junhui yesterday and the previous article he’s published, he has more or less or an outline now, and he finds it sufficient for a whole day. He stops in front of his bike just outside the building, fishing his keys out of his bag to unlock it. He grips the handlebar tight and climbs onto the saddle, adjusting the bag over his shoulder comfortably to sit against his back. The ride home is only fifteen minutes or less (depends how much energy he has pedaling), which he spends with music in his earphones and nothing else on his mind. He holds firmly onto his bike as he makes his way up the staircase to his apartment, playing with his keys ready in his hand to open the door. Jihoon unlocks the door and closes it behind him, raising his bike above his head to push the wheels into their place from the suspended ceiling.

After throwing his bag on the table and his keys onto the ceramic blue bowl (with tiny painted fish swimming around it), Jihoon drops to the big chair in his living room, taking a deep breath. Seungcheol’s words bother him yet again, ringing, like when a song gets stuck in your head. _  
_ _And I know for a fact you have someone who’d love to join you. If you just ask._ Is it possible Seungcheol knows more about his undefined relationship with Junhui than he does? Or maybe it’s just _him_ who doesn’t want to know anything about it. Jihoon can’t figure out if he has a headache, or if his mind is just so over the place, it hurts to think, but if there’s something he knows for sure, is that besides Seungcheol’s words bugging him and confusing him, there’s something else that hasn’t left his mind all day; _Junhui._

That kiss today, he can’t get his mind off it, and he isn’t sure how many more of those he’s gonna deserve. And even though Jihoon takes pride in being on his own, like he has been for so long, the idea of letting Junhui in, past the walls he’s built so diligently, makes him feel less alone. And terrified.

He reviews the pros and the cons.

Pro… he likes Junhui. He really does. From his stupid designer suits to his even stupider Nespresso machine, all the way to his dedication, hard work, confidence, cleverness, humor, and kindness. He radiates a sort of atmosphere around him that not a lot of people possess; it calms you down. Makes you at ease. And Jihoon likes that.  
  
Another pro would be that Junhui might actually like him back. He’s been persistent so far- he hasn’t backed down, even when Jihoon’s made it clear to him that he can back out, now, tomorrow, in a month. That this is just _in case._ He sticks around. And Jihoon has had more people leave rather than stick.

Con… Junhui might leave him.

Con… Jihoon might hurt him.

But he can’t know if he doesn’t try. That’s what Seungcheol would say. _How can you know if you haven’t tried?_

His hand is sweaty when he reaches for his pocket to get his phone out.  
  
Seungcheol picks up at the third ring. “What if I fuck it up? What if it all goes to shit?” Seungcheol sighs through the other. It’s a heavy sigh, but it has the faintest touch of relief, like Seungcheol has been waiting for Jihoon to turn to him.  
_  
_ “Then it goes to shit. It might not go to shit, if you do something. But it definitely will if you do nothing. You can’t keep telling yourself you don’t feel anything, Jihoon. It’ll swallow you whole.”

Jihoon has a lump in his throat, but not one that you can cough away. He doesn’t know what else to say, so he just ends the call, and stares at his wall.

As a journalist, he’s required to deliver the truth. When he writes a story, the facts mean a lot to him. Even if it isn’t what he wants to write about, even if it has nothing to do with the message he wants to send, he maintains his reputation for giving all the details, _never writing a lie._ He’s so passionate about being truthful when it comes to writing, yet he keeps lying to himself, so he can remain safe. In his own bubble he’s created.

If that bubble doesn’t pop soon, he’ll get stuck.

He needs his bike.  


 

 

When Junhui opens the door, Jihoon has his lines ready, but his breath is still shallow from how fast he rode his bike there.

“I want you to come to a party with me this weekend,” He starts, before acknowledging the man standing in front of him. He’s in a simple t-shirt and jeans, completely stripped away from his lawyer representation. And even though it’s like he’s seeing someone for the first time, he doesn’t feel that way at all. He feels Junhui.

“And I’m sorry,” He mumbles. “I’m sorry I’ve been an ass.” Jihoon looks around, anywhere but Junhui’s eyes, which he can feel gaping at him. “We’ll take it slow.”

Jihoon stops, attempting to catch his breath. When he finally picks his head up to properly see Junhui’s face where it’s peering over him, listening to him without saying a word- and he waits, to make sure Jihoon finished talking. When he’s certain Jihoon’s done, Junhui nods and leans against the doorway, taking a couple more minutes to think while Jihoon’s still working on on regulating his breath.

“Okay. Do you want to come in?”

Junhui says, soft but composed, moving to push the door open enough so Jihoon can come inside if he likes. He blinks at the open way into Junhui’s apartment, and then at Junhui himself. There’s the tiniest, sweetest smile pulling the corner of Junhui’s lips that holds Jihoon’s heart steady. His heartbeat drops, slowly, his muscles relax.

“Yeah.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @kwonmp3 on twitter by the way


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